


Alone Once Again

by SnowElfDragon95



Series: Usaeleí of the Shadows [2]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Assassination, M/M, Multi, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:55:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24359923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnowElfDragon95/pseuds/SnowElfDragon95
Summary: After accidently attacking Cicero in Morthal, Usaeleí abandons the jester in hopes of keeping him safe unaware of the consequences. However, in doing so makes the Lycandrake more and more aggressive and harder to control. Without an anchor the Argonian nearly becomes feral. Cicero fares no better but is able to keep sane (sort of) with the Night Mother.
Relationships: Cicero (Elder Scrolls)/Original Male Character(s), Cicero/Listener (Elder Scrolls), Original Argonian Character(s)/Original Argonian Character(s) (Elder Scrolls), Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Series: Usaeleí of the Shadows [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1738987
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	1. Alone

**Author's Note:**

> The chapters will alternate between Cicero and Usaeleí in terms of point of view so bear with the strange chapters.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two weeks after leaving Morthal...

_Alone...._

_He was alone once more with only the cold biting wind of Skyrim upon his scales yet he could still feel his claws dripping with the hot blood he drew from the crazy fool. He struggled to keep his heterochromic eyes forward, focused on the faint worn out path before his feet and not turning to steal a glance at the now barely visible village behind him. He can't go back. He couldn't face Cicero after what happened. The look of terror still burning bright behind his eyes made Usaeleí shudder in self-loathing._

_A monster._

_That was what he was. No matter how much he wished it weren't true._

**_Usaeleí's PoV-_ **

It had been nearly two weeks since Usaeleí parted from Cicero’s company and he was suffering worse than ever. The Argonian curled up within an abandoned bear cave after another rough night. He winced, his body sore and tender from several violent transformations that had occurred that day. He didn’t even have the strength to make a fire. The beast was becoming more incoherent and more feral which in turn had Usaeleí acting more animal than sentient. He kept reminding himself that was to keep himself from harming the few people he cared about. He already killed Vaka by accident when he first transformed as a hatchling. Usaeleí shuddered violently once more though he was fairly certain that it was not because he was cold. He remembered his claws rendering his egg-nurse's scaly body to a bloody heap. The sickening sweet scent of iron and copper tickling his senses in a teasing fashion. He could vividly remember his fangs clamping down through her throat, crushing the air from her lungs; her warm blood sliding down his throat. By Sithis, it tasted so sweet...

The young lycandrake shook his head angrily. Though the healer attempted to persuade him that it was not his fault. That he just needed someone to look into his condition and hopefully assist him in at least controlling what his urges, Usaeleí knew the truth. Deep down, he knew was a monster. He felt his eyelids grow heavy and he drifted off to sleep only to jolt awake from the agonizing pain of his spines piercing through his back. He clenched his fists and bared his fangs, digging his feet into the dirt beneath him, he clenched his abdomen in discomfort, growling when his own claws pierced through his own scaly hide. It was happening again. He then rammed his head against the wall of the cave causing some loose boulders to topple on him, pinning him to the ground knocking him unconscious. At least the pain had ceased. The beast was at least knocked unconscious for now. Another innocent was safe. At least Cicero was safe.

For now....


	2. A Short Tale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cicero stays at the Bannered Mare and once again meets Khyeena who offers a little more insight on the Jester's precious Argonian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another look inside Usaeleí's past though through a different person.

**Cicero’s PoV:**

Two weeks...

Two weeks had gone by since his precious lizard had left him. Cicero rubbed his now fully healed throat absentmindedly as though the wound was still fresh upon his flesh. It took much effort not to cut the wounds open himself in an attempt to keep him awake. However, Mother had always managed to keep him from hurting himself on the wound. He knew Usaeleí never meant to hurt him and the jester constantly cursed and berated himself for showing fear. He was a damn assassin for Sithis’s sake! He never showed fear but that one incident cost him. He cursed the fact that the Argonian left without even letting him explain. 

The Jester sat beside the fire within the Bannered Mare as he closed his eyes in thought. He had backtracked towards Whiterun in hopes of maybe finding the lizard with his friend, Isilmé but was sadly mistaken as the white elf and a few of her Shield-Siblings were out on a mission and would not return for quite some time. 

“This one remembers you.” He heard someone purr and he lifted his head to the face of a familiar Khajiti woman. It was the pretty black kitty cat from Riften in her Thieves Guild uniform. She gestured towards the seat beside him and he shrugged. He wasn’t even in the mood to kill or torture, let alone joke or tease. Her silvery eyes softened and she ordered a mug of mead for herself.

“This one is going to take a wild guess and say that our favorite Argonian has disappeared?” She inquired taking a sip of her drink and Cicero stared at her; equal parts annoyed and equal parts impressed at the Cat’s spot-on assumption. He nodded curtly.

“If Isilmé were here she wouldn’t be surprised either. Usaeleí has a habit of running away when he hurts the ones he cares about.” She continued folding her ears back then perking them back up. Khyeena then turned to face him.

“He attacked Isilmé once,” She started noticing the Jester take an interest, his eyes watching her like a child waiting for a story to be told. 

“He... Usaeleí did?” He asked in a scratchy voice then took the tankard that the Cat offered him to soothe his parched throat. She nodded.

“He did. When we were very young, Usaeleí lost control and slashed up poor Isilmé with his claws. Only by sheer willpower did he stop himself from sending the little elf to an early grave.” She explained in great detail. Apparently after harming his first friend, the young Argonian ran away in hopes of protecting her and the rest of his little family from harm but in truth that did more harm than good. He started acting more like a wild animal than a friend and it would have gotten worse had Isilmé and Khyeena not gone after him and found him. “He was still plenty dangerous, but so long as someone he trusted could bring him back to his senses, he would come back.” She finished her tale. 

“The pretty kitty and the white elf have a weird taste in friends.” The jester commented and Khyeena laughed softly. 

“Says the raven to the crow.” The Cat rolled her eyes but gently patted Cicero’s shoulder as he glanced up at her. “Do not give up on Usaeleí. He will come back to you. This one knows it. Just be patient with him.” The Khajiit strolled over to the bar for another drink leaving Cicero to his thoughts while continued to stare into the fire. He scoffed. He didn't need some mangy cat telling him how to act but decided to bite his tongue. He closed his amber eyes once more, picturing the pretty lizard just waiting for him somewhere. 

_Gah! Cicero needs to stop acting so damn sentimental._ He growled at himself.


	3. The Strange Visitor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It had been three weeks now since Usaeleí left Cicero and during this time, our Shadowscale had been unconscious under rubble. That is until someone comes to visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I know short chapter again. Sorry. Anyway enjoy all the same

_**Usaeleí's PoV** _

“ _Excita, filius meus obumbratio.._.” 

A deep rumbling growl resonated within the cavern causing Usaeleí to stir from beneath the rubble. The lycandrake’s fingers twitched as he tried to push himself up from the ground with the debris still pinning him. “ _ **Movere!**_ ” The voice commanded sternly and the large rocks, boulders and dirt crumbled away from the pale Argonian who coughed and shook his head weakly, sneezing from the dirt still lodged within his nostrils. Usaeleí growled sorely when he felt something cold and wet brush against his scales. “ _Ad otium. Non veniet ad vos._ ” The voice hummed as the cool damp cloth washed over Usaeleí’s body, wiping away the dark gray dirt holding his snowy scales hostage and the Argonian winced as he felt the cloth graze the tiny scrapes on his face. “W... who are you?” The lycandrake rasped in a weak voice. 

“ _Et non instar is sicco?_ ” The voice questioned curiously as he finished dressing the weakened Argonian into some clean breeches at least.

Wait... The more the lycandrake thought about it, this strange voice was familiar. His eyes fluttered open to find a strange being shrouded in thick shadows kneeling beside him and he abruptly sat up. It couldn’t be! The figure staring back at him was most certainly the same figure he had seen in his dream that night! The same dark, almost blood red eyes stared intently at the Argonian. Yet, there was a warmth to the stern gaze. Usaeleí tensed visibly when the figure reached for his hood and pulled it back. The lizard was taken aback to find that beneath the figures hood was actually Argonian. His scales were as black as the void tinted with a red glow to them and he had similar horns to Usaeleí. “Are you...” The lycandrake started to asked but trailed off as the strange male seemed to chuckle in amusement.

“ _Quae te oblivisci potest accipere multas formas. Quod sit vita hominis, aut spiritus, aut bestia._ ” The mysterious Argonian shrugged, “ _Vec quicquam faciti_.” 

Usuaeleí scratched his head in confusion. From all the teaching he had learned so far from Vaka about Sithis, was that the Void did not have any actual form however, it was still an entity of sort. But there was no way this stranger was the Dread Father. It had to be a trick! “I assure you that this is no trick, Usaeleí.” The stranger hissed calmly then tapping his chin gave the pale creature a thoughtful look. Usaeleí just remained quiet. He still did not believe the strange being.

“But for now, you shall call me Teacher.” The black Argonian suggested with a grin. 

“Teacher?”

“ _Xhu_. Teacher.” Teacher repeated. “Someone needs to properly train you with your gift.”

Usaeleí bared his fangs angrily at the mentioning of his ailment and he let out an angry snarl. The beast was not a ‘gift’. It cost Usaeleí his mother figure in Black Marsh, it nearly cost him the lives of Khyeena and Isilmé and finally it caused him to wound Cicero... No. This ailment was not a gift in any way. It was horrible. It was and always would be: a curse.

“It is not a curse if you know how to use it.” Teacher pointed out and watched the lycandrake clutch his head and shook it violently in a futile attempt to keep the stranger from reading his thoughts. _This is a just a dream!_ Usaeleí screamed within his mind. _A nightmare from being crushed by boulders and rocks._ There was no way in Oblivion that Teacher or whoever he claimed to be was a manifestation of the Void! He flinched when he felt two of Teacher’s claws touch the center of his brow and the lycandrake found himself unable to avert his eyes from the dark red, hypnotic gaze of the strange Argonian. “Quit fighting it.”

Usaeleí lightly pushed the hand away from his face and growled, his lips curling back threatening to bite. Teacher was surprisingly unimpressed with the display of aggression and his eyes blood-red eyes shimmered then pulsed causing the pale Argonian to go rigid. Paralyzed. Teacher once again rested his claws against Usaeleí’s brow then pulled his black lips back revealing gleaming ivory fangs and began emitting a high-pitched sound that caused the lycandrake to close his mismatched eyes tightly from the pain. It sounded like a thousand upon a thousand of hornets buzzing within his ears but he could not move or anything to ease his discomfort. _Xhuth! Make it stop!_ Usaeleí silently pleaded, _It hurts!_

Usaeleí never even noticed that the beast was seamlessly merging within his very being. He could hardly hear the beast’s voice becoming nothing more than a mere if not faint whisper. It felt like hours before the strange sound ceased and he opened his golden eye angrily, clearly in pain from the unexpected noise. Teacher only smirked then nodded seemingly satisfied with his work. Slowly pulling back his claws, the black lizard closed his maw and snapped his fingers. Usaeleí’s eyes rolled back and he crumpled on his side unconscious. 

“This will make shifting easier for you. Consider this lesson one: Endurance.” Teacher chuffed as he pulled back his hood to hide his face then turned to glance over his shoulder. Company. A Dark Sister and Dark Brother approaches, seeking out their target. Not to kill, no, most definitely not. But to bring home a new member.

“ _De pastu paludis virecta sol tuus et cinere fabula est iam inceperat. Duo iam fata dicere carmen. Tempus non currere, in quem nunc chao sicut inceperat_.” The shadowy figure soon faded within the darkness of the cave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Latin translations:
> 
> Excita, filius meus obumbratio- Awaken, my son of shadows.
> 
> Movere!- MOVE
> 
> Ad otium. Non veniet ad vos.- Be at ease. No harm will come to you.
> 
> Et non instar is sicco?- You haven't figured it out?
> 
> Quae te oblivisci potest accipere multas formas. Quod sit vita hominis, aut spiritus, aut bestia.- You forget that I can take many forms. Be it Man, or Spirit or Beast.
> 
> Vec quicquam faciti.- It matters not.
> 
> Xhu- Yes
> 
> Xhuth- Fuck
> 
> De pastu paludis virecta sol tuus et cinere fabula est iam inceperat. Duo iam fata dicere carmen. Tempus non currere, in quem nunc chao sicut inceperat.- From marsh to ash and sun your story has now begun. Two fates now spun. No time to run, the chaos has now just begun.


	4. Bored

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cicero is bored and decides to scheme on how he is going to deal with his little runaway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: torture bloodshed and death by trampling. Youve been warned.  
> We also hear again from the Night Mother and the Dread Father  
> (Sorry again for the short chapter. Work has been brutal.)

As the mare, now called Wraith by Cicero for some strange reason, trotted quietly up the road away from Riverwood, Cicero was writing in a notebook, lightly tapping his chin with his quill. If he was going to wait for his precious lizard once more, he would have to think of ways to deal with his little runaway.

An unhinged grin crept along his face. “Ooh! Perhaps a torture session! With sharp, pointy stabby stabbies!” He chuckled then his smile deflated as quickly as it appeared. “No. Pretty Lizard would hardly make a sound.” He crossed the idea off his list. He rolled on to his back, the quill clenched between his teeth and he held the book over his head. What could he do? He wondered until he dropped the book on his face groaning and he pulled the book from his nose. This was harder than he thought and it was making him angry. He spotted what looked to be a fisherman's camp and making a slight whistle, had the mare veer off the road and rest beside the camp. 

A tent had been erected no more than an hour before he arrived and the more Cicero studied the camp, the more he realized that an Argonian occupied the camp. “Lizard probably hunting his dinner,” Cicero ventured a guess as he lifted the scales near the riverbank. “These aren’t Pretty lizard’s scales. Nope. No, they are not.” Cicero grumbled, “Usaeleí’s scales are much more luminous. These are a dull green and brown. Yuck!” He stuck out his tongue pretending to gag before tossing the wretched thing into the water. He noticed a few bubbles up river followed by a reptilian head with feathers on top. He quickly unhitched the mare and brought her to the river to drink under the illusion that he was tending the tired creature. 

The dark green creature swam to the shore with his catch of salmon and a few trout. He didn’t even notice the jester. He tossed the fish onto a mat and sat down, rummaging through his knapsack. Cicero then placed his forefinger to his lips as if telling the horse to remain silent. Wraith gave him an annoyed look and continued to drink. She neither cared nor minded the crazy fool’s antics so long as she was well cared for, she was content. A strangled growl caused the horse to turn her head to the sound and she saw the crazy fool had ambushed the oblivious Argonian before dragging him effortlessly into the tent. She snorted unimpressed.

“My. My. My. Looky, looky what dear sweet Cicero found sweet Mother!” Cicerco cackled after subduing his victim with his poisoned dagger. “A dumb and unsuspecting little lizard out for a swim.” The brownish-green Argonian hissed fearfully as he tried to thrash about. Cicero grinned as though someone casted a Candlelight over his head. Cicero’s honeyed eyes started to shimmer with delight as he clapped his hands merrily. That’s it! _Cicero can play with this little skink while he thinks of a plan for his precious Pretty Lizard!_ He giggled excitedly as he rushed back to the wagon and grabbed another ebony dagger from his satchel then returned find his prey trying to crawl back to the river. Oh, that simply wouldn’t do, would it? He gripped his dagger then proceeded to stab the lizard’s tail, piercing through the thick hide and pinning him to the rock bed.

Cicero jumped back with ease to avoid the Argonian’s claws. _Did you already forget? Argonians are highly resistant to poisons and diseases._ The voice in his head sighed exasperatedly. “Oooh that’s right! Cicero almost forgot!” The Fool laughed as he easily blocked the Argonian’s claws, then thrust his dagger through the lizard’s thigh while clenching a couple other daggers between his teeth, trying to avoid the lizard’s needle like teeth. Cicero grinned once more as he sidestepped out the Argonian’s line of sight then dragged his other dagger through the lizard’s shoulders, causing him to arch back reflexively and expose his bare throat. Oh, Cicero could easily, so very easily just slit the jugular but that would end his fun too swiftly. Instead, he danced around so he facing the Argonian then with a leap, stabbed the dagger once more through the shoulder and pulled the blade down, slicing, cutting through the tough hide. 

Blood now practically stained the ground and the lizard was too exhausted to keep fighting. Cuts, gashes, even pieces of his flesh had been ripped off by the crazy fool who didn’t even have a single scratch, let alone a speck of blood on his motley. “Ahhh, is the little skink done playing with Cicero?” Cicero pouted disappointedly. He was still proud that he had hardly broken a sweat but this wasn’t even a challenge. Suddenly, a thought sprung into his mind. But before he could write down this wonderful idea... He turned his attention to his prey, the shadow of death lingering behind him. Swiftly, Cicero whisked around the lizard and dragged his blade across the Argonian’s throat, the blood flowing instead of spraying from the severed vein. While he wiped his blade clean, he glanced at Wraith and whistled for her to come.

Rolling her eyes, Wraith knew what he wanted and reared on her hind legs, her front hooves thrashing about before bringing them down upon the Argonian’s head with a satisfying crunch to the Imperial’s ears. He then produced an apple for the red mare who munched it contently. “Not as fun as it would have been with Pretty Lizard but still satisfying.” He patted Wraith’s neck before hitching her back to the wagon. He drew her back to the road and continued to scribble in his journal. “A softer approach for pretty lizard.” He said aloud then grimaced, “I may be out of practice on that...”

He picked up the reins and gave them a flick urging Wraith into a trot. He removed his cap and scratched his head. 

**A challenge indeed**. The Night Mother chuckled softly. **How is Usaeleí, my Husband?**

 _Et multo melius est cottidie, cara uxor. Et adhuc magis incerta ... suis virtute._ The Dread Father hummed with concern then added, _Sed box est expectant. Credunt. Temporis complexus susceperit._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Latin translations:
> 
> Et multo melius est cottidie, cara uxor. Et adhuc magis incerta ... suis virtute.- He is faring much better, dear wife. He is still rather... uncertain with his power.
> 
> Sed box est expectant. Credunt. Temporis complexus susceperit.- But that is to be expected. Have faith. In time, he will accept it with open arms.


	5. A Lucid Dream or Reality?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The duo shares a dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updated.

**Usaeleí’s PoV**

**I found myself walking down a strange road in what could only be described as a forest, however there was something off about this scenery. Gnarled trees, like burnt firs and cedar, were twisting oddly almost like they were swaying. Strange, I don’t feel any wind on my scales. The twigs and grass crunched beneath my feet, scratching my tail a little. I could faintly hear the sounds of flowing water nearby and I lift my head slightly. I inhale deeply. Waterlilies? No. But the smell was familiar. Sweet, with a hint of death. I stop dead in my tracks. It couldn’t be.**

**My body moved on its own, as though something was pulling invisible strings taut in that direction and I started to sprint. I skid to a halt nearly colliding with the jester. He seemed to be staring off in the distance, almost like he was deep in thought. That can’t be Cicero can it? I wondered aloud then cover my mouth when he suddenly stiffened and slowly, very slowly turned to face me, his amber eyes boring a hole through my very own and my heart nearly stops.**

**Cicero...**

_Cicero’s Pov_

_Cicero doesn’t usually dream often but to say this dream of a river isn’t a welcomed relief would be a lie. Mother has been tended to and Wraith is resting after a long ride. So why can’t I seem to get the damn lizard out of my head?! His jeweled eyes, those beautiful gold and green eyes... The way the moonlight glistens off his scales. The way they turn crimson from the blood of his prey. Heh, he’s not much of a Shadowscale, but... Gah! What in the name of Sithis am I thinking?! I pace around the riverbed running my hand through my hair. I sink to the ground sitting cross-legged grumbling to myself. I tap my fingers on my shoulders as I close my eyes. I suddenly tasted something sweet on the tip of my tongue. Powdery, sugary... sweet! With a hint of tartness. Snowberry sweetrolls. By Sithis, the Argonian was a master with cooking. Great now I’m hungry._

_“That can’t be Cicero, can it?”_

_I felt my body tense up to the sound of that sweet voice. It couldn’t be. I turned around, slowly, so very slowly to face the Pretty Lizard and I swallowed hard._

_Usaeleí..._

For a good long while, the two men just stood there staring at each other until Cicero narrowed his amber eyes angrily and made a face of disgust, crossing his arms over his chest. “What are you doing here?” He scoffed. Some of Usealeí’s spines drooped and he scratched his arm nervously. He couldn’t really blame Cicero for being angry but still he had no words to say. “I do not know how the fuck you invaded my dreams; the one place I can have a peaceful respite, but I must kindly ask you to leave.” The Jester growled lowering his hand to his dagger. The lizard shifted defensively. “Since when did you ever ask nicely nor when did you start referring yourself as ‘I’?” Usaeleí rolled his eyes then flinched. “Wait... did you say... ‘dream’?”

“Am I not speaking the Common Tongue? I not as insane here as I am when I am awake” Cicero scoffed, a curious brow raised. _Am I dreamwalking then?_ Usealeí wondered to himself. Dreamwalkers were rare even in among Argonians. Most Dreamwalkers were healers of the mind and body despite their supposed affiliation with Vaermina; Daedric Prince of Dreams and Nightmares; but this was all the lycandrake knew about Dreamwalking. He then found that Cicero’s gaze had turned serious as the fool spoke, “You abandoned me...”

“...Xhu... I did...” Usaeleí confirmed.

“You left because of this, yes?” The jester pointed to the faint scars on his throat. The Argonian cringed and nodded shamefully.

“Because you clawed my throat?”

“You looked so frightened for someone who can gut a vampire without a second thought... you were shaking.” Usaeleí hissed. He very nearly tore the Jester’s throat apart. The Argonian could still faintly feel the warm blood on his claws and his spines twitched in disgust. Cicero chuckled embarrassed. “Well, if I’m being honest. You DID catch me off guard. Mind you, that is not an easy feat to do.” Cicero chuckled once more, “I’m still going to punish you for leaving.” The Argonian gawked; taken aback by Cicero’s words. 

“Just for... leav- OW!” Cicero had taken the scabbard of his dagger and slapped the top of the lizard’s nose as he gripped his snout hissing from the sudden sting. He was really getting tired of that. “You should feel grateful that I don’t nor want I kill you where you stand.” The Fool stated, his eyes starting to darken slightly with anticipation. “No matter, you will learn your lesson soon enough. Among other things...” The Argonian, still holding his snout, narrowed his eyes into slits suspiciously.

There seemed to be a double meaning to Cicero’s words but before his thoughts could process the fool’s words, he felt something peck his cheek. It was soft, warm. Not a cold blade. When he was about to question what the Jester just did, Cicero gave him a strong shove back into the darkness waving at him with that unhinged grin of his. 

**Usaeleí’s PoV**

**By Sithis, my body is aching. I haven’t felt this horrible since the day I returned to Murkmire... Never liked having Hist Sap. Tradition or not, it still tastes like leather and moldy cheese. As I growl rolling onto my side while ignoring my churning stomach and the faint scratching sound of my antlers grazing against a wooden structure, I felt something hard and wooden creak beneath my hands. That’s not dirt or rocks. This is wood.**

**Opening my eyes, I discovered that my vision was incredibly blurring. Wonderful. An upset stomach and disoriented. I slow pushed myself up and sat on my haunches hissing slightly after pinching my tail. I blink as my vision slowly cleared and I realized I was in some sort of shack. Very run down. I took a deep breath coughing after inhaling a thick layer of dust.**

**I shouldn’t be surprised. From what I saw, there was broken dresser and a bed thickly covered in debris. The firepit looks like it hasn’t been used in years. I even smelt water. Marsh water. Was I near Black Marsh? No. I would have noticed that easily. Wamasu have a very distinct scent no matter where you were. So perhaps Morthal? Suddenly my spines suddenly stood up. I was not alone. Sitting across me were three people, a Nord man in a mercenary’s attire, an Imperial woman wearing a simple tan dress and a male Khajiit in formal attire. I also noticed that the trio were tied up and had blindfolds over their eyes.**

**“Sleep well?”**

**I turn my head to glance over my shoulder and narrowed my eyes to the source of the voice. A woman was perched on the top of a bookcase in a red and black skin-tight attire. It looked vaguely familiar but I couldn’t quite put my claw on it. She also reminded me of Alva with her curvaceous body and buxom breasts. My lips pull back in a tight line and I shudder. Let’s not go there. Besides, she doesn't smell like a vampire. “You are surprisingly not an easy lizard to find and I must say what a splendid kill you did on that old crone in Riften.” She continued to speak and I thump my tail against the wooden floor, irritated. How did she know about that? Seeming to read my mood, the woman shifted slightly and rested her cheek on her hand, blue eyes turning serious. “I’ll cut right to it. You murdered the old woman. You owe the Dark Brotherhood a kill and I’ve come to collect. One of our other ‘guests’ has a contract on their heads. Make your choice, make your kill and you get to walk away.”**

**I glance at the three hostages behind me then back at her. Her eyes seemed to smile at me. I snort angrily. First, I’m dragged out to the middle of nowhere, then my captor orders me to kill one of the other hostages. I had half a mind to tear the woman down from her perch and tear her limb from limb. On the other hand, the scent of helpless prey struck my senses like a thunderbolt.**

**Hmm... Decisions, decisions**.


End file.
